


Chasing the Tracks

by bryar6



Series: A Wizard's Beginnings [6]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Buffalo, F/M, Gen, Historical References, I’m just lazy, Someone please yell at me to make better tags, Western Setting, character backstory, oh god i just realized i haven't checked this for errors and im posting it super late at night, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryar6/pseuds/bryar6
Summary: When monster-hunting becomes harder, Douxie, Zoe, and Archie turn to fight a different sort of monster that inhabits the souls of men instead.It's the mid/late-1800's and buffalo are being slaughtered en masse- for sport and their skulls. The trio won't stand for needless killing in any form and do their best to divert what they can.Plus, a little redeeming fluff at the end.
Relationships: Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Zoe
Series: A Wizard's Beginnings [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941658
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Chasing the Tracks

The wind whips Douxie’s black hair around his head, his long locks escaping the cap on his head. His vest flutters around him and he reaches his hands out, catching the wind.

“This is living, Archie!” He shouts over the roar of the train flying over the tracks. 

“It’s not flying, but it is quite enjoyable,” the familiar agrees. He puts his wings up just enough to feel the wind, but not enough to be drawn away. 

“Put those away,” Zoe hisses, shoving the dragon’s wings down. “And please go back to being a dog already. You’re going to get us killed before we even get anywhere.”

Her own hair is darker now, after centuries of being under the sun, a light brunette. Her hair is cut short, shorter than even Douxie’s, wearing a tunic and trousers, a pair of somewhat too large boots on her feet. She comes to stand next to Douxie on the very end of the traincar, eyes scanning the wide expanse of land disappearing before them. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Archie says, leaping down from the rail and transforming into a large black mastiff. “I really do despise these forms. Though I garner more respect as this filthy beast.”

“You’re fine. You make a handsome canine,” his familiar says, scratching behind the dog’s ears. Archie’s rear paw lifts and makes a scratching motion, but he puts it down fast and backs away. 

“Cut that out!” A low whine comes from the dog. 

Zoe smiles and rolls her eyes. “Boys, we’re going to miss our stop.” The train is grinding to a halt as it enters a small town’s depot. 

“Right.” Douxie extends his hand to her and she smacks it away, tugging her cap on tight. “Oi!”

“Don’t forget that I’m Zach,” she reminds, and then pulls more at the bulky vest. “Right, Dawson?”

Douxie makes a gagging reaction to his pseudonym, but nods. “Yeah, yeah.” The train is nearly stopped, and for now they are hidden by the other boxes on the tracks. He leaps off before it’s fully at a halt, hitting the ground and rolling. Zoe follows quickly after him. 

“Look for lots of empty box cars and cars for people. That’s where they will be,” she whispers, pointing ahead of them. “That train looks pretty promising.”

“It even smells like it, too,” Archie says, long snout scrunching up.

Douxie glances around the trainyard, making sure there’s no one in sight. He waves for his friends to follow and they run down beside the carts, finally finding one that’s not locked yet. Zoe pulls the door open and they rush in. The boxcar is full of crates, empty for now. 

“Well, make yourselves at home, mates, and rest up.” Douxie seats himself on a crate, removing his cap. “Because we have a bit of a journey ahead of us.”

Zoe finds some old hides stashed away in the car and lies them down on the floor, setting her things down. “Sounds good to me.” Douxie and Archie join her, lying down. 

The train struggles into motion, loud gears grinding as thousands of pounds press on each other to turn, a rhythmic sound forming quickly. Soon, Douxie is lulled to sleep. 

*************

“We’re slowing down,” Zoe says, shaking Douxie’s shoulders. “Means time to get off.”

Douxie forces himself to sit up, everything stiff and sore from being jostled for some hours. Zoe looks a little rougher for the wear, but otherwise in good spirits. 

Archie is already sitting by the open doors, long, pink tongue lolling in the wind. His eyes are closed behind his silver glasses. 

“Ready for some fun?” Zoe says, slapping her hands together. 

“Ugh. You always have more energy than I do.” Douxie rubs his eyes and pats Archie. “But yes. So we all know the plan?”

“Well, we jump off at high speeds, and then find the buffalo, all without being noticed in a wide open plain. Sounds simple.” She elbows him. “Don’t work yourself up over this.”

Archie transforms again, and instead of a dog before them, now sits a very sizable gryphon, black as night. 

“Can we lose the color? Maybe go with something a little less noticeable?” Douxie recommends. 

“Alright, alright.” In a flash, the gryphon’s coat is flaxen like the long grass in the plains. 

With a shared nod, Douxie and Zoe clamber onto his back and hold tight to his mane. Zoe is seated closest to Archie’s shoulders, taking the position of rider for today. 

Archie leaps from the train, wings flying open to catch the air and slow them as they hit the ground at a gallop. The gryphon changes to a large, powerful horse beneath them, powering across the fields. 

“That’s a lot of showing off,” Zoe says offhandedly. 

“Forgive me for enjoying myself,” Archie says, banking away from the train and towards a crest in the hills. “The buffalo should be just on the other side.”

Archie pants as they reach the top, peering down into the valley. His hooves skid and they halt suddenly. And there they are. 

Thousands of the majestic creatures cover the land, dotted figures for as far as the eye can see. Douxie’s heart aches to think of what those men on the train want to do to them, and why. 

“Remember, we save two lives for each one spared. The buffalo, and the native people,” Zoe says, taking note of the apprehension in Douxie’s eyes. He breathes in sharply. 

“Couldn’t we have, I don’t know, derailed the train?” 

“I considered it, and I would absolutely do it, but we still need a ride back after this. So we stick to the plan. Don’t worry, we can still take the train out when it gets back to the depot.”

Douxie nods, summoning a magic horn to his hands and pressing it to his lips. Archie’s ears flick back in anticipation. He blows long and hard, the noise rebounding in the ever-stretching hills. The sound reverberates in their chests, low and full of emotion and adventure. 

The buffalo take off like a wave receding from a coast, away from the tracks and towards the opposite hills. 

“Now’s the time, Arch, show us what you’ve got!” Zoe says, squeezing her legs against his sides. “Hi ya!” 

Archie snorts and gallops down the hillside, his hoofbeats joining the sound of the buffalo. They veer towards the few stray ones that are still headed alongside the tracks, cutting them off. Douxie keep’s balance with one hand on Zoe’s shoulder while she directs Archie with precision. Douxie sends blasts into the grasses, making the giant creatures turn away. They speed along for what feels like ever, until the buffalo are redirected for as far as they can see. The train has slowed notably in the distance, the people likely seeing by now that the buffalo were out of reach and only getting further away. 

“Think that’s good enough?” Zoe asks the two. 

“I sure hope so, because I couldn’t run another mile if I wanted to,” Archie says, chest heaving. 

“We’ve done all we can. We just need to hope it makes a difference,” Douxie says, watching the last of the creatures disappearing over the horizon. “I suppose we find out in the future.”

Hundreds of thousands of the buffalo had been hunted down and killed for sport by these disgusting men over the past years, only increasing with the use of the trains. It was causing trouble to the native peoples who were still losing their homes in great chunks every day. Protecting the beautiful animals was the least the trio could do, especially in an age where monsters were surprising sparse. It seemed that the monsters laid within the souls of people rather than in back alley-ways. 

Zoe nods and they make their way back to the tracks on foot, disguising themselves in the tall grasses. Archie has happily transformed back to a cat. 

“You’re getting good at riding,” Douxie says, spinning through a few spells on his gauntlet. “With another century you’ll be a proper equestrian.” He eventually finds the one he wants; a parasol to shade them.

“I would say I was taught well, but we all know Archie was the one who did it,” she says, smiling. “And it’ll probably be a century too late. By then maybe everyone will have their own little personal train and not need carriages or horses to get everywhere.”

“That’s absurd. Besides, I rather like having the horses around.” Douxie shakes his head. “Personal trains, eh?”

“Or something like that. Don’t you ever wonder about the future? We’ve been living so long, I would think I could make a decent guess as to what’s next,” Zoe argues.

“Perhaps. I’d bet you a dollar no one has personal trains though,” Douxie says, holding a hand out. 

“Deal. You’re on, Capseran.” 

*********************

Zoe pulls up outside of Douxie’s little shop. He was closing up for the last time; no one was interested in buying any books during the war, not from some small print shop. He’d sold the building and was ready to move on again as they were always doing. He’d spent too many years as a late teen here, anyways. A tall dog tags after the boy, a strange white mark like a Q on its chest. The rain soaks Douxie’s hair, plastering it to his face. He squints into the fog. 

“Over here!” Zoe calls, waving. She’s seated at the wheel, wearing her work clothes, a closely fitting dress and a hat that seems comically large. 

Douxie half-jogs over, throwing suitcases into the back, sliding into the bench-seat. Archie leaps onto the back of the vehicle, barking. 

“Oh, shut it! You know wet dogs aren’t allowed up on the seat.” Archie whines, causing Douxie to throw him an unamused look. Douxie wrings his hair out, getting water on the floor. 

Zoe hisses. “Do you know how much I paid for this thing? I bought it illegally, but still. Do your best and don’t destroy the rug.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He pulls a matchbook out of his long black coat and lights the candles in the lanterns. Zoe messes with the gears a bit and gets the automobile moving down the bumpy street. 

“Do you remember that bet?” Douxie asks, wiping a hand across his wet face and flinging the water out of the motorized carriage. She scowls at his dripping form. 

“The one about personal trains? If so, yes,” she says, not taking her eyes off the street. “But I still can’t decide if these carriages count or not. I suppose they wouldn’t because of the vast difference in functions, but hey, I wasn’t too far off, now was I?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it counts. They aren’t trains, after all.” 

“Fork it over.” 

“Gah. I don’t know why I ever bother. You always win bets,” he says, fishing for the money in his many pockets. 

“My dear Douxie, don’t fret, you’ll learn one day,” she says, smiling as she takes the bill. “Although, this is disappointingly worth much less nowadays. I should have asked for the inflation to be added.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” he teases. They laugh as they drive, settling in for the long roads again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short one I had on my mind. As a part of everything that happens through the history of the country, I thought I'd add in a few of the lesser known things for sake of bringing up important topics. Buffalo hunters did kill and nearly cause the extinction of the American buffalo, which led to serious harm done to the native people who relied on them to survive. The animals were wasted, hides and skulls often the only things taken as hunting trophies. It is a very horrifying and awful thing that happened throughout the 1800s, with people sometimes shooting from the train. I'd recommend looking some things up about it, as it's a powerful reminder. I plan to add a good deal of historical pieces to all of this as it goes, probably lots of timeskipping around.


End file.
